


Greenhouse Confessions

by ariadne83, somehowunbroken



Category: DCU
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1256488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne83/pseuds/ariadne83, https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian gets emotion-pollened. Tim isn't happy about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greenhouse Confessions

Damian is fast; he always has been. Talia trained him well. He's strong and agile and ruthless at taking people out. But he consistently underestimates plants, and when you're fighting Poison Ivy that's a pretty big weakness.

Damian has had inoculation upon inoculation, lecture upon lecture, and knows well to avoid Ivy herself. The problem is, Ivy isn't just the woman, she's the plants she surrounds herself with. Whether they're huge, spiked, and colorful or tiny, green, and feather-soft, they're her babies. Her minions. So even though Ivy isn't there, even though she's across town fighting Nightwing and Batman, it isn't safe to poke around her hideout without protection.

Damian doesn't take that fact into account.

Which is why Tim's had to put on a rebreather and drag his stupid, stubborn, unconscious ass out of the greenhouse. Tim is a good brother, even when he wishes he wasn't. It's why he goes into the warehouse in the first place; it's why he pages Dick and Bruce. It's why he starts running the bloodwork as soon as they get back to the cave, and why he sits near Damian's bedside until Bruce and Dick return.

At least whatever he's been dosed with doesn't seem to be toxic. That's a plus; Tim really doesn't feel like dealing with heart failure or kidney failure or cyanosis today. For now, Damian's just asleep. Tim administered a basic antihistamine on-site, and a more complex one when they got back, and Damian just looks… peaceful.

It's weird.

Tim checks his vitals again - no elevated heart rate, O2 levels are fine, so it wasn't sex pollen either. It's not like Ivy to just knock people out, but Tim can't figure out what else is going on. He lays a hand on Damian's arm just to double-check, but no, he's not sweaty or clammy; he's warm and dry.

Damian shifts when Tim touches him, and his eyes flutter open slowly. He squints up at Tim, who pulls back, ready to ask what's going on.

Damian smiles. "Oh, hello. I suppose you're the one who rescued me; thank you."

Tim lets go of him so fast he smacks his wrist on the side of the gurney. Damian struggles to lean up. 

"Timothy? Is everything okay?"

"Stay down. Stay away from me. You've been dosed by Ivy," Tim says, weirded out.

"I do not feel ill," Damian says, frowning.

"That doesn't mean you aren't. And with the way you're acting, I'm pretty sure you are." Tim taps at the comm. "RR to B and N. Robin is awake. He's…" Tim narrows his eyes. "I'm requesting backup, non-emergency."

Damian lies back down, just like Tim told him to. "I appreciate your concern. What is my status?"

"Freaking me out," Tim says. "That is your status. You're sure you feel normal?"

"I feel at rest. Better than I have felt in a long time." Damian turns his head and frowns. "I am sorry to cause you to worry."

Tim jerks. "Stop that!"

"What?"

"Being pod-you!"

Damian frowns again. "My apologies, but I don't know what you mean."

"Stop apologizing! God, next thing you know, you're going to start hugging people, and I'm going to jump out of my skin," Tim mutters.

Damian sits up. "If it would make you feel more at ease-"

"No! A hug from you would be the opposite of ease." _Dis-ease_ , a voice in the back of Tim's head pipes up. Goddamn Dick and his puns.

Damian frowns, and he actually looks a little hurt. "As you say."

Tim's saved from having to think about what the hell that means by Dick's arrival. "Where is he?"

"I am awake," Damian says evenly, no hint of irritation in his voice. Tim backs away slowly.

"Dami!" Dick swoops in, arms wide open for the tackle-hugs that Damian always avoids. Dick nearly springs back when Damian leans into his body, wrapping his arms around Dick's neck. "Uh. Hi, Damian. You feeling okay, buddy?"

"As I was informing Timothy, I feel fine. I am at peace."

Dick squeezes him tight, never one to look a gift-hug in the mouth, but Tim can see the tension in his shoulders. 

"Is that right, _Timothy_?" Bruce says, looming out of the dark. Yeah, that line was pretty hard to miss.

"That's what he says," Tim replies with a purposefully casual shrug. "I'm not buying it."

Bruce pulls back his cowl and raises an eyebrow; Tim hears the unspoken request for details.

"He's uncharacteristically level, emotionally. He was unconscious for at least half an hour, and he didn't react when I woke him. Even though I wasn't there yet when he passed out." Then Tim adds the clincher. "Pretty much the first thing out of his mouth was a thank-you for pulling him out of Ivy's place."

Bruce takes a step back, pulls his cowl back on, and puts on a rebreather.

Tim shrugs. "Can't hurt, but I've been breathing in here since we got back, and I'm not feeling the need to…" He trails off and gestures at Damian, who is now settled across Dick's lap on the gurney. There's no word for it other than cuddling.

"I'm not taking any chances," Bruce manages to mumble around the mask. Under other circumstances Tim would probably laugh at his paranoid fear of normal human contact, but... well. This is far from normal.

Tim turns back to the computer, bringing up the analysis of Damian's blood sample. Now that they know what's wrong, they can start looking for it in his blood, and maybe work out a way to fix it. Close examination shows slightly elevated dopamine levels compared to his pre-patrol baseline, but that's all. This new bio-bomb of Ivy's seems to change the _distribution_ of chemicals in the brain, rather than the levels.

Tim checks it again, and again after that for good measure, but there's nothing different. He sends each report upstairs to Bruce, who had retreated out of the cave when he realized that he was the only possible non-contaminated one among them.

"Timothy," Damian calls softly, his voice echoing through the cave. "Am I sick?"

Tim twitches. "Yes. No. I have no idea."

There's a whimpering sound, and Tim hears Dick shushing Damian, like he's a kid. Like he's an _actual_ kid, and not an emotionally stunted baby assassin.

"I don't want to be sick," Tim hears, and that's a tone he's never heard from Damian before: actual fear. "I won't fight the medication, Richard. Please help me get well again."

He sounds terrified, and that in itself is plenty terrifying for Tim.

"When I say I don't know, I mean that I can't find anything wrong with you physically," Tim clarifies. "We'll keep you monitored for 24 hours to make sure you aren't going to deteriorate, but as of right now you seem fine." Physically, Tim repeats to himself in the privacy of his own head. There definitely seems to be something wrong with him psychologically.

"Promise?" He sounds so small.

"I can do better than promise. I can show you." Tim brings the analyses up side by side and points when Damian walks over. "See? This is your baseline, and this is you right now. The variations are within acceptable deviations." He brings up a third display and overlaps it with Damian's blood test results. "In order to even be marginal you'd have to be here or here," he says, tapping at the screen. "You're not even in the yellow, let alone the red."

Damian sags against Dick, relief written all over his face. "Thank you."

Tim wants to kill Ivy for this - for stripping away Damian's defenses, and with them more or less his entire personality. It's bad enough when she sprays them with sex pollen, or gets them sick, or transforms them into slobbering attack dogs. This, though? Taking away everything that Damian has built around himself, everything that lets him keep himself who he is? It's unacceptable.

"Get some sleep," Tim suggests, awkwardly patting Damian on the shoulder. "You'll feel better in the morning."

Damian's hand shoots out and clamps around his wrist. "Don't leave."

"I have a few things to wrap up," Tim says, trying to figure out if he can get his hand back without Damian freaking out or hugging him. "I'm sure Dick would be happy to stay with you. Right, Dick?"

"Of course!" Dick beams.

Damian's fingers tighten slightly. "He doesn’t have your way with computers. If you aren’t here, who will explain..." He chokes off and presses his face into Dick's shirt, sniffling again.

Tim blinks. "If you have a computer question, you can ask Br- uh, your father. He can figure it out." He stands up. "I'm going to get some information from Ivy, Damian. It's to help you, okay?"

"Father left," Damian whispers, and as Tim watches his shoulders start to shake.

"He's just upstairs," Tim says quickly, tapping a few keys until he can show Damian the camera in Bruce's office. The man in question is sitting at his desk, working on his computer intently. "He didn't want to risk catching anything down here. Dick and I are already compromised, so it's important that at least one person be left who isn't."

"I- I don’t like it down here," Damian chokes out. "It is cold and damp and still, and I- I- I... I miss Mother."

Tim's chest seizes. Damn Ivy for making Damian a _kid_.

"It's okay," Dick murmurs, running his fingers through Damian's hair. "I know you miss her, Damian, but you and I can have a good night, right? We'll get into our sweats and pull all the pillows onto one of the cots, and Tim can set up a movie for us before he heads out. Right, Tim?"

"Right." Tim has to move before he loses the will to head out, because Damian's hitting him right where it hurts. He's young and sick, missing his parents, confused about why they're not there; he could be Tim, a decade ago. "What do you want to watch? If we don't have it, I can get it pretty quickly."

They settle on Mortal Kombat, which Tim had no idea Damian had ever even seen once, let alone enough times to quote Shang Tsung. Tim sets it up to play on the big screen over the computer, dragging the big squishy cot over and heaping it with pillows and blankets while Dick and Damian change in the locker area.

He doesn't even have it in him to be surprised when Damian, who's first out, tackle-hugs him.

"You shouldn't do that," Tim says gently. "You won't like it when you're back to your regular self."

"Please," Damian says, voice quiet. "I - I don't know what is wrong, I don't know what you need to fix. I don't know what normal is. I just…" He sighs, and it's not the kind that precedes crying, but it sounds so lost and hopeless and broken that Tim can't help putting his arm around Damian's shoulders and squeezing.

"That's why I'm here. I'm going to help you figure everything out. I'll go to Ivy and be persuasive, and if that doesn't work I'll take her down and hack her system until I find what I'm looking for," Tim says confidently.

Damian smiles up at him. "And then you'll come back?"

"And then I'll come back." Tim leans over and grabs Damian's radio, which he'd set on the bedstand. "I'll check in with you on the hour, okay?"

"Thank you for your assistance." He looks down. "I know I have not done much to deserve it."

"That's not how it works," Tim corrects him. "You don't have to earn the right to be yourself."

Damian won't meet his eyes, and Tim sighs. "I mean it, Damian. You and I don't see eye to eye all that often, but that's just who we are. We don't have to be best friends to be family. Besides that, even if you weren't family, I'd still help you. It's what I do. It's what people deserve, no matter what they've done."

…and _that's_ the crying kind of sigh. Tim squeezes Damian's shoulders again, eyes darting around for Dick as Damian buries his face against Tim's chest. 

"M- mother- I am not good enough. She is replacing me."

Tim freezes. "She's what?"

"She made me choose, between my life here and her plans, and I - there is another child, another me. He will be my twin." Damian shudders. "And inevitably I will have to face him. He will kill me, or I will kill him."

"We're not going to let that happen," Tim says firmly. " _I'm_ not going to let that happen. And having the same DNA doesn't make him you." Tim makes a mental note to call Conner after this whole crisis is over; if Damian will talk to him, he’s bound to be able to think of something to say. Something more relevant than what Tim can come up with right now. "You are your own person; you made your own choices. Talia might not like it, but tough shit."

Damian is quiet for a moment, but his hands are digging into Tim's suit so hard that it's probably hurting him. "I wish she had the ability to love me, no matter the choices I make," he finally says.

Tim swallows hard. Damian is going to hurt so much when this is over, knowing he's exposed himself like this. "The fact that she can't isn't your fault."

"That doesn't make it any better," Damian says, and Tim closes his eyes.

"I know," he says, giving in and pulling Damian in for a proper hug. It's going to cost him later, he's sure of it, but right now Damian is a scared, hurting little kid, and Tim can do something about it. "I know it doesn't make it magically better, but you have a lot of people here who care about you, who want you to be happy."

Damian is going to hate him so much for this, later. Odds are 50-50 he'll try to kill Tim again.

"Hey." They both glance over to where Dick is standing, near the foot of the cot. "Can I join in on cuddle time?"

Damian sniffs loudly, and when he pulls away from Tim he leaves a snail-trail of snot. Tim heroically does not make a face, and the grateful look on Dick's face as he pulls Damian in would be vaguely offensive if the situation weren't so incredibly bizarre. Because the thing is, Tim never once thought of Damian as a twelve-year-old before today. Tim never thought about what he was like himself when he was Damian's age - lonely and obsessive, and so very sensitive to rejection - and applied it to their situation. He's never thought about Damian being _here_ as Damian _not_ being with his mother, and though he remembers reading the report of Talia forcing Damian to choose between his parents, he's never thought about that as more than a choice between right and wrong. 

He's never sat down and wondered what he would've done about his own parents if he'd been there when they were poisoned - if he'd had to choose which one to save. He's intensely glad that choice wasn't his to make, and there's a sudden flare of hatred aimed in Talia's direction for making Damian pick, showing him the replacement she's growing, giving him every tool with which Damian is undoubtedly hurting himself. And for giving him the guilt that is knowing he has a sibling who wouldn't exist without him, and who is going to go through every bit of fucked-up training Damian endured all because Damian refused to be his mother's puppet.

Well, fuck that. Tim has his own connections, his own ways of doing things, his own allies who will help him. He's going to get Damian back to being himself, and then he's going to see what he can do about getting that kid out of the League's grasp and making sure they can't produce any more. Conner will help him for sure; just saying the word "clone" will get his attention without any problems. He's sure that he can get Bart, as well, and having a speedster along is never a bad thing.

But for now Tim tucks those thoughts away safely in the back of his mind, where his subconscious can work on the plan while he tries to get Ivy to talk sense. "Every hour," Tim says as he walks to his bike. "If I can't talk, I'll send a preset."

He doesn't look back as he gets himself settled on his bike; he doesn't want to see any more of the incongruous ordinariness that is Damian and Dick having a pajama party than is strictly necessary. None of them have ever been normal kids, which is part of what makes this whole thing so disturbing. Dick probably came the closest, but that was long ago and far away, and he's definitely not that kid anymore. It looks like he's remembering, though, for Damian's sake.

Thinking about it that way actually makes the ugly history between the three of them hurt a lot less. Damian needed to be reminded that he's a child; Tim always needed to be independent, treated like an adult. Dick saw that, and he acted on it. Damian never would've been able to grow up, to grow past Talia's teachings, if he hadn't first been allowed to be a child. To fail and be forgiven. Damian needed that chance, that push, and Tim needed to be himself. He'd still thought of himself as Robin, which is why it had hurt so much, but in the end, he hadn't been Robin for years.

Dick… is a lot smarter than he seems at times. Sometimes he's entirely Dick, though, which is what makes Tim shake his head and smile when he glances over before heading out. Dick is flopped half off the bed, making faces at Damian, and they're both laughing.

He holds that image in his head as he crosses the city to Gotham PD and Ivy's cell. "Tell me how to fix this."

Her smile curls across her lips. "Fix what, Red Rose?"

"One of your precious babies bit someone I work with and stripped away his armor." Tim taps himself in the head. "Up here. We need to know how to fix Robin."

"Ohhhh, is the Robin out of his nest and feeling things like a common houseplant?" She laughs. "Don't tell me it's not an improvement."

"It's not _him_ , is the point."

Ivy spreads her hands. "I've given you a gift. More, I've given _him_ a gift."

"Tell me how to use the return policy or I'll make sure every last one of your babies is extinct by the time you make bail tomorrow," Tim says calmly.

Ivy narrows her eyes. “You really want the sapling to regrow his thorns?"

"You're the one who always says the thorns are part of the beauty," Tim shoots back.

"His are poison to all they touch. He has no antidote."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Poison exists for a reason. He's allowed to not want people to touch him."

"I don't like poisons I can't control," Ivy says.

"You don't like weedkiller, either. Make your choice."

Ivy crosses her arms over her chest. "Without another application, it will wear off in a day, perhaps a bit more; I had meant the dose for you, and he's quite a bit smaller."

Tim crosses his arms too. "Not that much smaller. Why me?"

"Maybe I was tired of seeing you sigh over that pretty little blonde bird," she says. "Not that men like you deserve beautiful creatures like her."

"You're behind the times, Ivy," Tim says with a snort. "That ship has long since sailed, and she's perfectly aware of how I feel."

"Ooh, smart girl," Ivy coos.

Tim nods. "That was never in doubt."

Ivy winds her way across the cell. "Maybe I thought you'd be more useful after you bloomed." She unfolds her arms and lays a hand on the bars. "Are you a real boy with a beating heart, Red Rose?"

"You've made me bleed enough times to know the answer to that, Ivy."

"But you keep letting me scratch you." She stretches out a fingertip and Tim instinctively takes a step back.

"You keep setting up situations in which I have no other choice," he says.

"There's always a choice." She tilts her head and smiles at him, slow and conspiratorial. "Isn't that what they always say at Arkham, that the future is in your own hands?"

"They also say that the definition of insanity is choosing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, and yet here we are." Tim spreads his hands. "The nature of the beast, Ivy, is that as long as you work against Gotham, we're going to work against you."

She laughs, high and lilting "And I'll always try to save my precious ones, in my own way. You can't stop me; you can't even stop yourself."

Tim smiles, just a little twitch of his lips. "I could say the same thing about you."

She smiles back at him. "Maybe I'm not the only one who fits your definition of insanity, then."

"I leave definitions to the people who keep me on this side of the bars," Tim replies. He turns on his heel, heads down the hall, and hits the buzzer to be released.

"Until next time," Ivy calls after him.

Tim doesn't reply, but he doesn't have to. The truth doesn't have to be acknowledged for it to remain true.

He checks his phone when he gets outside; there are still fifteen minutes before he's supposed to call Damian. Not long enough to get back to the Manor, and if he's on his bike when the call goes through he won't hear it, the kid will panic, and Dick will kick Tim's ass. He fires his grapple and swings onto the roof, looking out over the city.

Jesus, Ivy had meant that for him. 

He doesn't even want to think about what he would have said or done in Damian's state, who he would've turned to, and how it could possibly have been anything less than a disaster. Bruce? Dick? Steph? Conner? He has walls for each of them, things he never said when he had the chance and can't or shouldn't say now. Bart? He's heard more than enough of Tim's complaining over the years. Cass has better things to do; Damian hates him and doesn't need any more fuel. 

He dreads what would have happened if he ran into Jason on his way home. He dreads what might've happened if he zeta'd to the Tower. He feels really fucking terrible about being relieved that Damian got dosed instead of him, but there it is. Tim likes his walls; he built each of them for a reason, and he puts a lot of effort into making sure they're structurally sound. And maybe he's not 100% satisfied with his life, but nobody ever is. At least he can't be reached, can't be hurt.

It's not like people don't know that Tim is constantly holding things back, constantly keeping himself apart. For the most part, they respect that about him. The fact that Ivy saw it and nearly ripped everything apart… Tim shudders. The thought of wearing everything on the surface like that, no way to hide no matter how much he wants to, makes him sick to his stomach. No wonder Bruce had run.

Tim jerks when his radio pings and Damian's voice rings in his ear. "Timothy?"

"Hi. You'll be happy to hear Ivy says you'll be back to normal in less than a week, no intervention necessary."

Damian is quiet for a moment. "Are you okay? You sound… stressed."

"It's my fault," Tim says quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. "Ivy was aiming for me and you got caught in the crossfire."

"Then... is that not _her_ fault?"

Tim sighs. Damian might not be himself at the moment, but that doesn't mean he's not perceptive. "This wasn't meant for you, and I'm sorry that you're taking the fall." Little white lies never hurt, right?

"Thank you," Damian says quietly, like he's trying not to let Dick overhear. "For - you have done everything in your power to assist me."

"You don't have to thank me," Tim says.

"I want to."

"No, you - look, you're probably not going to remember this tomorrow, but just in case you do, Damian... I'm sorry I saw you like this, for your sake. If you want, we can pretend it never happened, okay?"

There's a sound that Tim can't identify before Damian speaks again. "Am I truly so terrible, that I would want to ignore even thanking you?"

"Having boundaries isn't terrible," Tim says adamantly. "Choosing what relationship you want to have with people isn't terrible." 

"And yet those choices have made our relationship a terrible thing."

"Our relationship doesn't exist," Tim shoots back.

Damian makes a horrible noise.

Tim sighs. "That's not what I meant. We don't know each other; we've never spent any time together. And that doesn't have to change just because Ivy messed with your head."

There's another sound that Tim can't place, longer this time, and then Dick is hissing into the radio. "Jesus, what the hell did you say to him?"

"Fuck. Nothing, I just…" He shakes his head. "Hang on, I'll be there in half an hour."

"Can you fix him?" Dick asks.

"He has to wait for it to wear off," Tim says. "Ivy said it would only be a couple of days, maybe less; I told him a week so he wouldn't freak out if it's not fast enough."

"And yet here he is, freaking out."

Tim winces. "Ah. Yeah. I'm not sure how to… fix that."

"Tell me exactly what you said."

"When I get there." Tim's lying through his teeth and he's pretty sure Dick knows it, so he hangs up and turns off his phone.

He does speed like hell back to the Manor, though, and by the time he gets back, Damian is curled up on the cot, head in Dick's lap. When Tim gets close, he can see that Damian's face is puffed up like he's been crying, and Dick is running his fingers through Damian's hair soothingly.

Damian looks up at Tim. "You hate me," he chokes, and buries his head back in Dick's lap, shoulders starting to shake.

"That's not what I said." Tim runs it through his mind again. "It's not what I meant, anyway."

Dick glares at him. "I'm going to make cocoa." He doesn't move until Tim's taken his place on the cot. 

Damian wraps his arms around Tim's waist and sobs into his tights, and Tim tries his best to copy Dick's motions, running his fingers through Damian's hair.

"I'm sorry," Damian gasps out. "I'm so sorry, Timothy, for everything."

"No, that's not - I was trying to say that I don't care if you hate _me_. How you feel is... Ivy had no right to tear you down like this."

Damian sniffles. "You think I'm a threat."

"Well, maybe I don't know you well enough to make that call," Tim says evenly. "That was kind of my point; you don't know me either. We've never had that chance." He sighs and strokes Damian's hair again. "Damian, we're brothers by law, but that's a pretty big label for two people who've spent as little time in the same city as we have."

"We've spent so little time together because I was horrible to you from the start. I came into your life and threw you out of it." Tim starts to shake his head, but Damian hunches in on himself. "Richard reminded me. When I came here from my mother's, I attacked you. He pushed you out of the role of Robin so he could keep me from hurting others."

"You were ten; I was seventeen. I acted like a jealous three year old."

Damian shakes his head. "I would not have accepted your kindness, had you offered it to me."

"And I judged you by who your mother is," Tim replies.

Damian sniffles and doesn't say anything.

"I mean it," Tim goes on. "Even after you'd been working with Dick for a while, really proving yourself, I assessed you based on what I know about _her_ , not on what I was seeing."

"You were more right to do that than I was to judge you based on what she told me of you," Damian says quietly.

Tim huffs out a laugh. "So we were both wrong. how does that sound?"

Damian shrugs.

"And since we're calling it a draw, we get to start over, if you want," Tim offers.

Damian nods so hard it looks like his head is bouncing on his shoulders, and Tim smiles. "But you need to wait to decide that until after all of this wears off, okay? I'd like to start over, but I'm not going to hold you to any decisions that you make when you're not in full control of yourself."

"Very well."

"And whatever you decide, I'm going after your little brother," Tim adds.

Damian does a double-take, his whole body rolling. It's kind of adorable. "You are?"

Tim nods. "Yeah. One of my best friends is a clone."

Damian squints at nothing, eyes tracking back and forth as if he's reading something that Tim can't see. "Conner Kent. Superboy." Tim says nothing; it's not his place to tell someone else's story, but Damian nods. "I want to go with you."

"Okay."

Damian makes a surprised little snort. "What if - what if father will not allow it?"

"I won't allow him to not allow it, not if this is something you really need to do," Tim says, shrugging. "I know what it's like to need to do something and to be told you're sidelined. I know what that does to you. This… if it's that kind of important, you'll be with me. I'm friends with Superboy, remember? I'd love to see Batman try and stop us."

"The Titans will assist?" Damian asks.

"Absolutely." There's no doubt in Tim's mind.

Damian bites his lip. "I must apologize to them for-"

"You _must_ get some sleep and see if your head's any clearer in the morning."

Damian's eyes widen fractionally. "I-" He glances away.

"What?"

"What if I wake up hateful?" he asks, still not looking at Tim.

"You won't."

"I might," Damian insists.

"If you do, that's okay," Tim says. "Like I said, Ivy had no right to do this to you. How you deal with it is your call."

Damian hunches in on himself even more. "I don't want to forget. Will I forget?"

“I don't know." Tim taps a finger against his mouth, thinking. "There's nothing stopping you from making a record of whatever it is you want to remember."

Damian's shoulders loosen. "A record? Like a video?"

"Video, blog post, snail mail; whatever you want."

"A video," Damian repeats, narrowing his eyes and nodding. "It seems the quickest option, and the one most easily validated, should I not believe it once I... regain the rest of my mind."

"Okay." Tim pats him on the back awkwardly and stands up. "I'll go help Dick with the cocoa." He's been up there in the kitchen way too long, probably helping Alfred plot Tim's death.

Conversation stops dead when Tim steps into the kitchen. Dick turns to glare at him; Alfred just keeps stirring the cocoa. His lack of reaction is perfectly eloquent. 

"I wasn't going to bullshit him and tell him we're close," Tim says. "He's emotionally compromised, not brain-damaged."

"You could have softened it a little," Dick says. "Like you just said, he's _emotionally compromised_."

"I could have," Tim acknowledges, "but I didn't. I'm not used to needing to soften things for him."

"He's a kid!" Dick protests.

"Yeah, and he wouldn't take it well if I treated him like one under normal circumstances."

Dick slams a fist down on the bench. "What part of this is normal?"

"None of it," Tim replies. "That's kind of my point."

"What-"

"Even now, Damian's not a normal kid. He's confronting some pretty awful things about himself and all his usual coping mechanisms have been stripped away."

Dick flinches back. "Damian isn't-"

"Damian isn't a normal kid," Tim stresses. "How he was brought up, what Talia has made him do… did you know she's growing a clone to replace him?"

Alfred drops a mug into the sink, and it clatters loudly against the metal.

"Yeah," TIm says grimly. "I told Damian that as soon as he's back to normal, we're going to the League and rescuing his brother. I'm planning on destroying whatever I can while I'm there to make sure they can't do it again, too."

"I - why would she do that?"

"To replace him," Tim repeats. "Because he's not good enough for her anymore. She told him to his face that if he works with us she can't love him, and he has to live with that. His training let him distance himself, let him compartmentalize, and right now he can't access that."

"Holy shit," Dick says weakly. "He's known about this for months. Since the spine thing. And he never said a word."

Tim nods. "And now it's all hitting him at once, so there's pretty much nothing I can say to soften the blow." Tim remembers people trying, when his father died - telling him at least Jack went out fighting, at least he didn't suffer for long, at least he was at peace. None of it had made any difference, and none of it had eased his crushing guilt; polite falsehoods are useless when you've been trained to recognize deception.

"How's he holding up?" Dick asks after a moment, glancing towards the Cave entrance. "I mean, I know you wouldn't leave him alone if he was still sobbing, but…"

"He's making a video," Tim says. "To remind himself of… things. In case he forgets when this whole thing wears off."

Alfred clears his throat and turns to face them. "Shall I send for Master Bruce?"

"Probably," Tim says. "I was going to head up to talk to him, but it might go better if it's not just him and me." Tim doesn't doubt his ability to give Bruce the facts, but having Dick there to help convince him that Damian should be allowed to help rescue his clone will be a huge bonus. More immediately, having Bruce show his son that he gives a damn might help calm Damian down. It's worth a shot, anyway, so Tim accepts his mug of cocoa from Alfred and slides into his seat as Alfred heads up the stairs to get Bruce.

Dick kicks the leg of Tim's chair. "How'd you calm him down?"

"I promised him that when he gets his mind right, and if he still wants to, we can start over."

"Huh." It's been a long time since Tim felt that he was being evaluated so closely with just a look, but that's Dick for you. "Really?"

"No, I told him that Santa Claus is real," Tim says dryly.

Dick sticks his tongue out, so Tim figures he's probably passed the evaluation. "As long as you don't back out of it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, _big brother_." Suddenly the kitchen doesn't seem so cosy and welcoming.

"No, it's just…" Dick sighs. "You two have a lot of history, and all of it is bad. I'm worried that when he returns to normal, it'll just… be how it was."

"If he wants it to stay that way, it will," Tim says. "I'm not going to hold him to anything he said while he wasn't in his right mind, Dick."

"What's wrong?" Bruce says as he strides into the room, cutting off their conversation.

"You mean besides the fact that your kid is sick and he needs you?" Tim blurts out without thinking.

"He's sick?" Bruce asks. focusing intently on Tim. "I thought you said he was fine, other than… the emotional effects."

Tim stares for a moment. "You don't think that counts?"

"Well," Bruce says, shifting, "he seemed to be fine with Dick."

Tim feels the sudden, almost-overwhelming urge to punch him. "He's twelve."

"Yes."

"He needs his father," Tim says. "Do you think he didn't notice when you left? Do you think he didn't ask for you?" Tim takes his hand away from his mug of hot chocolate so he won't be tempted to throw it. "After everything he's been through he needs to know that at least one of his parents will stand by him."

Bruce folds his arms. "Are we still talking about Damian, or-"

"Don't you dare try make this about me in some sort of attempt to not have to face what's actually going on," Tim says, forcing his voice to stay calm. "This is about Damian and what Damian needs. Which is, as I've said, his father."

"Suck it up and deal with it," Dick adds.

Bruce's attention slides over to Dick. "I thought you were with him."

Dick shoves away from the table and stands up. "Are you saying you want me to be his father?" he says in his Batman voice. "Because I did a pretty decent job of it while you were gone, so if it's too damn difficult for you to act like a grown up-"

"Dick." That's Bruce's Batman voice, too, but Dick is having none of it.

"No, you know what? Right now Damian needs to know that people give a damn about him." Dick flings his hand out. "Right now, he's more convinced that Tim gives a crap about him than he is that you do, and he remembers all about the history that he and Tim have. Consider that, why don't you?"

"You walked out, literally, when he was at his most vulnerable," Tim adds. "And when it became clear he wasn't contagious you didn't come back."

"I was-"

"Hiding," Dick snaps. "God forbid your kid know you love him, am I right?" He laughs bitterly and heads for the Cave's entrance. "Just stay up here, Bruce. I'll take care of Damian."

Tim lets him go, waiting to see if Bruce is going to follow. He doesn't.

Well, then, screw him. "Once Damian's better I'm taking him on a mission," Tim says flatly, leaving no doubt that he is not asking permission.

"I sign off on all of Robin's missions," Bruce says.

"Then I guess I have something you're going to sign."

"We can discuss it another time-"

"No. Now."

"Why now?"

Tim folds his arms over his chest. "Were you going to go sit with Damian instead? Because if you were, by all means, go ahead."

Bruce presses his lips together tightly and doesn't say anything more.

"Right. Let me tell you what you missed while you were dead." Bruce nods, so Tim goes on. "There was a fight that resulted in Damian getting shot in the spine. Dick had to take him to Talia."

"I read the report," Bruce says.

Tim manages not to laugh. "You know that not everything goes into the report."

"All relevant information is supposed to-"

"Why do you think Talia let him go?" Tim cuts in.

Bruce frowns. "She wanted him to be Robin."

"You're not actually that naive, Bruce."

"She has a plan."

Tim does a slow clap. "Well done. She has a backup plan, and she's putting it into effect as we speak."

"We need to stop her," Bruce says.

"I just told you: I'm taking Damian."

"To do _what_ , exactly?" Bruce demands.

"To rescue Damian's clone. And to destroy Talia's chances of ever creating another one."

"Like you tried to destroy Boomerang?"

"You know what, Bruce?" Tim narrows his eyes. "Now isn't the time. If you want to rehash the whole thing, fine, but we're not touching it until Damian is better and his clone is safe."

Bruce doesn't reply, so Tim trudges upstairs and goes through the motions of getting ready for bed. The shower doesn't get rid of the tension he's feeling, but it lets him push it back to deal with at a later date.

The bathroom is full of steam when he gets out, and his pajama pants cling to him like spandex He rubs his leg with his foot absently as he gathers as much of his bedding as he can from his bed. His pants are dry by the time he makes it back to the Cave, nearly tripping over the blankets and pillows in his arms.

Damian is back on the gurney, hooked up to a heart monitor. It makes sense, given all the stress the kid is under, that Dick's being extra-careful. Tim dumps his haul on the other gurney. "How are you feeling?"

"Cold." Damian pouts at him.

"Good thing I brought all these blankets, then," Tim says, patting them. "I figured we could make a blanket fort tonight. Drag the gurney mattresses onto the mats, set up some chairs, that sort of thing." It's something he'd always wanted to do as a child, but he'd never had anyone around to help him with it, and they're not really fun on your own. Then he brings out the big guns: a flashlight lantern. Tim can sleep pretty much anywhere, through any outside stimulus, so if Damian needs to escape the gloom...

Damian's eyes light up. "I've never slept in a blanket fort before."

Tim helps him scramble off the gurney without dislodging the leads to the monitor. They pull their fort materials over to the mats; Dick helps them set up the chairs and the mattresses, and gives them tips on how to best use their blankets. They end up with a fort that's more or less structurally sound, and when Tim crawls in, Damian grins at him.

"This looks nice," Damian says, and Tim manages not to flinch at hearing him say the n word.

He glances up; there's not a lot of room, but if they're just going to sleep, it shouldn't really be a big deal. "Are you warm yet? With all of these blankets, it shouldn't take long."

"Getting there." Damian yawns, and scrubs at his eyes. The corners are a little crusty thanks to his series of epic crying jags.

"Well, let's lay down," Tim suggests. "We can pull the blankets up. It should help." It's weird, treating Damian like they're the kind of brothers that the world at large thinks they are. Tim tries not to think too hard about how nice it is, Damian's sleepy smile as he puts his head on the pillow, the half-asleep giggle he gets when he tries to shimmy down and ends up knocking one of the roof blankets onto his face. It's going to be impossible not to treat Damian differently after this, whatever the kid decides. Hopefully there's not too much time between Damian getting back to normal and them going to save Damian's clone, because Tim's sure that Damian won't appreciate Tim not being able to leave the past in the past, especially when he'd promised to do just that. The distraction of the mission will save them both the embarrassment, and hopefully give Tim the time to get his thoughts together.

Either way, it's a problem for another day, so Tim lets himself curl up and fall asleep.

Damian's gone when he wakes up. Tim isn't really surprised. A quick scan of the Cave reveals that he's alone, and Tim bites back a sigh before crawling out of the remains of the blanket fort and gathering up the linens. He dumps them in the laundry cart and presses the button to make it rise up through the floor; no sense in making Alfred come all the way down here for nothing.

Tim tells himself not to dawdle, but it's still a few minutes of glancing around the Cave before he can make himself head up the stairs. And oh look, isn't this great; the only other person around is Damian. No Alfred as a buffer, no Dick to chatter away the awkward silence, and no Bruce to morosely take centre stage.

Damian stiffens when Tim hesitates at the top of the stairs. Tim can see him take a calming breath, and then he nods. "Timothy."

"Hey, Damian. Where is everyone?" Tim heads over to the coffee machine while he waits for an answer, so that Damian won't see his face and get the wrong idea. _Timothy_? Is he still out of it?

He hears Damian take another calming breath. "I asked Father and Richard to let me speak to you." He hesitates, and Tim makes himself turn around. "I would like to start over."

Tim fumbles the jar of coffee and almost drops it on the floor. "Uh. Okay. First rule of Tim: I'm kinda useless before caffeine."

Damian snorts. "Clearly." He stands and makes his way over, taking the jar and elbowing Tim out of the way. A minute later, the coffee is dripping into the pot, and Damian is fiddling with the packets of sugar and creamer on the counter, not meeting Tim's eyes.

"Do you drink coffee?" Tim asks, opening the cupboard to get a mug.

"I prefer tea," Damian says after a moment.

Tim grabs a second mug and the small teapot on the bottom shelf. "I meant what I said last night," he says to the benchtop. "We'll get your brother out, and make sure it can't happen again."

"And - and the other thing that you said?"

"That too."

"Good," Damian says firmly. "I'll hold you to that, Timothy."

Tim spoons sugar into his mug and bites back the urge to correct him; nobody's made a habit of calling him Timothy since he stopped going to temple. It's an improvement from Drake, anyway, and at least his name isn't _Richard_.

"You do that, Damian," he says, pouring his coffee out and wrapping his hands around his mug. "You do just that."

First names and vague promises are a shaky start, but they're way better than where they were before.


End file.
